Thousands living with disabling pain conditions feel forgotten as Scotland’s NHS backlog turns deadly—some die before they ever see a specialist.
Scotland is facing a quiet emergency. Patients with chronic pain are reporting delays of months—sometimes years—just to get basic treatment. Some are dying in the queue. Others say they’re being slowly stripped of the therapies that once gave them a shot at living normally. And trust in the Scottish Government’s new consultation process is hanging by a thread.
“We’ve been warning them for decades”
Ask Dorothy-Grace Elder, and she’ll tell you straight—this didn’t come out of nowhere. The former SNP MSP has been shouting into the void about chronic pain services in Scotland since the 1990s. She’s no stranger to this battle. But now, with the government revisiting its pain treatment policy, the stakes are higher—and the patience of the pain community is worn thin.
“This isn’t just about discomfort. It’s life and death,” Elder said in a recent interview. “We’ve seen patients dying while waiting for their first appointment. And still, the government delays.”
The anger isn’t abstract. Real people have been left behind. One woman in Lanarkshire waited over two years for her referral—she died just before her letter came through the post.
Appointments delayed, treatments denied
Chronic pain patients in Scotland often rely on a patchwork of therapies—some receive specialist injections, others attend pain management clinics offering group support and movement therapy. But those services are shrinking. And with few pain specialists in the country, referrals are turning into a bureaucratic maze.
In 2023, a report by the Health and Social Care Alliance Scotland (The ALLIANCE) revealed something staggering: the average wait time for specialist pain treatment exceeded 82 weeks in some health boards. That’s nearly a year and a half of unmanaged suffering.
One Glasgow patient said she felt “blacklisted” after asking for stronger medication. Another in Aberdeen said he was given breathing exercises and “left to rot.” Their GP meant well, but didn’t have the tools or time.
“I’ve been in agony since 2020. They told me to meditate and move on,” a 55-year-old patient told The Herald.
NHS Scotland under strain—and scrutiny
Scotland’s wider NHS system is already stretched. From A&E delays to a shortage of GPs, it’s a domino effect. But chronic pain services? They’re often the first to be cut and the last to be restored.
A recent internal NHS document revealed that multiple health boards had reduced clinic capacity due to staffing shortages. Some areas, including parts of the Highlands and Islands, don’t even have dedicated pain teams anymore.
Here’s how the waiting times look across major boards, as per late 2023 data:
| Health Board | Avg. Wait Time for Pain Services | Number of Pain Clinics | Specialist Staff Available |
|---|---|---|---|
| NHS Greater Glasgow | 78 weeks | 2 | 4 |
| NHS Lothian | 64 weeks | 1 | 2 |
| NHS Highland | 98 weeks | 0 | 0 |
| NHS Tayside | 53 weeks | 1 | 2 |
And it’s not just about numbers. It’s about what gets quietly swept under the rug when no one’s looking.
The politics of pain: Swinney, Sturgeon, Yousaf
Behind the suffering is a mess of political accountability. Humza Yousaf, before becoming First Minister, served as Health Secretary during a critical period of post-pandemic NHS recovery. Critics say he didn’t do nearly enough to fix waiting times or ring-fence pain services.
Nicola Sturgeon? Campaigners say her government promised progress—but in reality, oversight weakened. Services were left to individual health boards with little national enforcement.
Now, all eyes are on John Swinney, who’s set to take over as SNP leader. Pain patients want to know: will he actually listen?
• Will the new government make chronic pain a health priority?
• Can a national strategy be enforced across all 14 health boards?
• Will patient voices finally influence policy—or is this just more lip service?
For now, those questions hang in the air like anaesthetic that never kicks in.
Patients feel erased from the system
There’s another layer to this crisis—many patients feel silenced.
When the Scottish Government launched its national consultation earlier this year, campaigners expected real dialogue. Instead, the early drafts hinted at cutting treatments like spinal injections and restricting medication further. That caused panic.
One group of patients, writing under the name Voices of Pain Scotland, said the consultation “felt like a done deal,” not an open discussion.
Many fear the government is leaning on psychological approaches like CBT and mindfulness to replace clinical treatments. While those methods can help, patients insist they shouldn’t be the only option.
“I already do yoga, therapy, diet changes—you name it. What I need is medical intervention,” said one 38-year-old teacher from Perth.
Some say they’ve even been warned against speaking out publicly. Others claim their feedback to the consultation was “sanitised” or ignored.
A postcode lottery no one wants to win
What you get depends on where you live. And that inequality is making people desperate.
A patient in Dundee might get weekly pain clinic access. Meanwhile, someone in Argyll might have to travel 90 miles just to see a specialist—if they’re lucky enough to get referred at all.
That’s led to a quiet exodus of patients crossing borders into England for private care—if they can afford it. Those who can’t? They’re stuck. Suffering in silence. Or turning to black market medication.
And with the cost of living squeezing everyone, paying £150 per private appointment isn’t just hard. For most, it’s impossible.
